


Left on the Battlefield // Ballum

by Why_SoSer1ous



Category: Ballum, EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, Battlefield, Bloodshed, Death, Domestic Violence, Flashbacks, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Possible smut, Suffering, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-12-22 21:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21083621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Why_SoSer1ous/pseuds/Why_SoSer1ous
Summary: Set roughly around the height of the Second World War, Callum Highway, Commander of the 42nd rank had found himself at the centre of the battle. Fighting for survival, and eventually left with little to no hope, Callum finds himself in an impossible scenario. Not ready to give up, he prepares to fight to the death, until he's unwillingly rescued by a hooded-stranger. Refusing to reveal his full name, and burdened with mystery, Callum begins to question why he looks so familiar. And when the man does reveal his face, why does Callum find him so attractive?





	1. Commander Highway.

The shots overhead could be heard throughout the night. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to the tumultuous uproar of heavy metal being thrown back and forth like a boomerang, but he would have been lying if he hadn't wished for some blissful peace during the dark hours. 

Callum was starting to believe that joining the army had been a bad decision. Though, he wouldn't have had any other occupation to fall back on, since he'd been an over-eager child. The Army was his life. But his leadership skills only went so far. He couldn't exactly become the head bodyguard for royalty, per say. Or lead the entire British Army to victory. It was unlikely. 

His rank was his rank. He cherished that. What little men of his had trained with him; became a part of the actual British Army before the war, they were men he knew and cared for. Losing any of them had already killed a small part of himself, and numbers fell like wildfire. But there were those that he knew. Still alive, of course. Those that looked up to him, as a leader, as a friend, as another man. That alone made everything worth while. 

Callum sighed. 

Lying atop his bed in the pits, no more than a few centimetres off the ground, he closed his eyes in the hope that sleep would overwhelm him. Alas, the insomnia had overpowered his pattern, so he lay there, listening to the constant gunfire. It wasn't soothing. Nor peaceful. (Quite the opposite). So, he let the horrific reality take him instead. 

That was until a darkened figure burst through into his section of the bunkered pits. 

"Commander, Commander!!! You're needed at The Front!!" 

The small voice was that of a child, as well as he could tell. Though slender in height, it wasn't difficult to determine the age of the 'soldier' no more than 14 years of age. 

Callum sighed again. Not because of the prospect, but because he had been in charge of these, practically infants, for the best part of eight months now. He couldn't do anything, so caring for them hadn't been an option he could take, so he'd decided all the way back at the start to cut off all emotional connection that would've distracted him from efficiency. 

The child that had run into the room hadn't stayed for a confirmation of attendance from Callum, as he didn't exactly have a choice, and nowadays, if he was being honest, not many of his soldiers remaining found him that good company. None that were below the age of joining, that is. 

Pulling his legs over the side, Callum looked around at the camaraderie of beds, nestled side by side. Obviously no where near enough for everyone in the trenches, but he got his priorities in what little there was. 

Stepping out of the doorless 'room', Callum had thought the noise of gunfire and suffering would have gotten louder. In actuality, the velocity was almost the same. He forced back a further sigh. If anything to suppress the horror he was actually feeling. 

"Highway!! Commander!! Where've you been, eh?"

A stocky, brisker voice accompanied the words. Immediately recognisable as Lieutenant Carter. 

"Mick, how many times I gotta tell ya? We've known each other for how long now?"

The older man smiled back. He was lower in rank, though that had never been an issue between the two friends. Callum and Mick had been there since the start, purposely as his superior, placing him in the least dangerous positions throughout all the time he'd been above him. Losing people was a given, but Callum wasn't sure if he'd be able to cope without Mick. 

"My memory's going in my old age, Halfway. Give me a break, eh?" He laughed. 

Callum rolled his eyes. The nickname was as close as he got to normality. As a superior, nicknames weren't as common, though Mick was the only one that called him 'Halfway', so it wasn't as big of a deal. He liked it at the best of times, anyway. (And the worst.)

"What're you needing me for, then?" This time serious.

Mick walked straight past Callum, with the intention of being closely followed. Callum swiftly caught up with little to no effort, stepping in time with his friend. Following the tracked trenches towards the far side. Away from the gunfire. Callum didn't question him. 

"There's something you need to know, my son. And I ain't gonna lie to ya, it's bad." Callum went to open his mouth, but thought against it, letting Mick continue. "We're low on supplies, ammo, and additional food rations, which you know already, but the shipment has been, er...well, the thing is..."

"Spit it out, Mick!" 

"We're not getting any more!!! We're out!!! We got nada, nothing, zilch!!!" Callum's concentrated gaze unnerved Mick slightly, but his volume didn't change. "Mate..." stopping and turning to face Callum. "We need to scout. We have to leave and find the next to nearest post, otherwise we're going to either starve, run out of ammo, and get overrun, or get so many infections, that we'd rather be shot in the face, which is also, guess what, the fourth option!!" 

Callum could understand Mick's stress, though he was unsure how it was going to work. As a Commander, he was used to putting his soldiers before himself, which was one of the reasons why he was in a complete eased state.

"Right, OK. So, I suggest we leave immediately. No messing around, all right? If you haven't already done so..."

"I've packed, Halfway. You, me, and a couple of guys that overheard me and wanted to help. You know, hero types. That stint. Waiting by the far dug-out." 

The two men stayed in relatively close contact. Almost touching, which immediately changed when Mick brought his hand up to cup the back of Callum's head. They both closed their eyes. Worried. Scared. Everything riding on them. But neither letting up that the very idea of dying outside of the battlefield they'd been posted at for the last eight months was something that was now a likely possibility. 

Callum finally let out the breath he'd been holding, and then brought his hand up to push Mick's away. There was a brief silence held between them, which wasn't awkward, but enough to let the other know that they were ready, without actually speaking. 

Everything had seemed so sudden, but as the two men turned to walk, they knew they were making the right decision. No further words were spoken between them until they got to the far dug-out. The gunfire was still loud, but being around the thunderous riot twenty-four hours a day, the two hundred odd feet that separated them from the front line made the diminished noise feel close to blissful silence. 

"Right," Mick said. "Rogers, Wright and I, are going to follow the tracks on the left flank, got it? Commander Highway is going to go with you, Humphrey. You got the instructions I gave to you?" The shy middle-aged man gave a wary nod at Mick, but Callum wasn't completely convinced. "And, we're splitting up because...?" He questioned Mick. "Because...there are two bases nearby, and one of them has been infiltrated, however I am unaware of which it was, but don't worry, because they won't have stuck around, so whichever it is, we just turn around and come back, got it?" 

Everyone except Callum nodded and acknowledged the plan in unison. Quickly followed by the three men heading off in their designated directions. Mick turned to follow, however Callum caught him on the arm before he could. "Anything happens to you, I'm not going to know. I just wanted to say that you've been a great soldier, and friend, Mick. I love ya, man." Mick smirked at him. "Now who's getting soft?" Which received him a punch in the shoulder, but they both knew this had to be done, and when Callum finally let go of Mick, and they headed off in opposite directions, Mick turning one last time to shout: "Maybe don't die, and I'll tell you I love ya back!"

Mick's words kept a smile on Callum's face as he followed the mute man, referred once to as Humphrey (last name, probably). Yet he never spoke a word to Callum throughout the good hour and a half they'd been walking. At first he was concerned, though later it didn't bother him as much. This had been the quietest space he'd been in for the past year. He revelled in it. Knowing it would end sooner than he wanted it to. 

It was another hour before anything happened. 

Honestly, Callum hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have been to the track that Humphrey was leading him through. A lot of the land they had previously passed had been wasteland, nothing but ash and grey, musky landscapes. Though, as they'd continued, they had come across a miraculous amount of green-land. Callum almost comparing it to a forest of sorts, which was miraculous. 

"You think we're nearly there, Humphrey." Callum was optimistic. The man walking in front of him hadn't turned to check that Callum had been following him for the past three hours. He'd hoped for a nod, though even that was pushing his luck. However, he did instead receive a side-glance from the man, which may or may not have been for him, because following the glance, Callum could see that the forested surrounding they were currently in, parted at a rather significant destruction at the very place Humphrey was looking. 

They both stopped. And stared. 

What had been an epithet of trees and life, had suddenly cut away for several yards that mirrored that of the trenches. Gunfire left horrific bodies of ash; sacrificial monuments with blood cascading from not only the trees that were remaining, but the mound of which all of the deceased had been thrown upon, in one massive pile. 

Callum watched his face drop. He'd seen dead bodies, a diamond dozen, but this was barbaric. 

He pushed past Humphrey who, unlike him, hadn't bothered to show any form of emotion. The only obvious was fear, but Callum could only tell that because he had confined himself to no movement whatsoever. 

Upon standing in the rubble, the ash, and the death, he got to his knees and fisted the earth with his bare hands. Embedding himself in the memory that was not his. He could feel the fear as if it were a premonition. And finally, allowing himself to release the emotion that had been bottled up inside him for the last eight months of his life. Callum could do nothing. Staring at the pile of bodies in front of him was a clarification. Men killed. The circle of life that was never supposed to happen. Bodies of men and boys could never become the future, as there had to be some kind of end to this madness of a world. 

He wiped the tear from his eyes. This had to end...had to.

Getting to his feet again, never removing his eyes from the carnage, Callum felt his anger settle enough so he could return to the war that he was fighting. The war he was going to win. However, he was not prepared for the sight that greeted him as he turned back around. 

It had taken him a moment to realise that he hadn't actually been listening to anything that was happening around him. Because the surrounding had been so equivocally silent, Callum realised that he'd shut off his internal hearing. His focus had been so inadvertently absent from the real world, that when he watched Humphrey take a bullet to the chest from the small distance that had separated them. Callum's snapback to reality had been unfortunately delayed. 

He gawked at the sight. Watching the body fall to the floor was nothing new, but what was new, was the group of German soldiers that had spotted him and were now running, rifles aimed, at Callum. 

With nothing but his own rifle slung over his own shoulder, and a sack that he'd luckily been able to pick up as he turned in the opposite direction, Callum ran. 

His mind was empty. He couldn't think. Hearing the gunfire behind him was confirmation enough that they were going to kill him. Had they the stamina or even slightly accurate aim to catch him up, Callum would've been a goner. 

Unfortunately, he'd spoke too soon.

By some miracle, on their side, Callum yelled out in immediate pain. "Son of a bitch!" He screamed, as he looked down at his now bleeding abdomen. He clutched at the wound, and slowed his run to a scarce shuffle. Luckily he'd gained a little distance, though that wouldn't have been enough to hide anywhere nearby. He was covered by trees, trees and more trees. No mounds, no hills, and you could see through the forest for miles, not that Callum's vision was helping him on that part. (Disorientated). 

He had to stop, which he did. Almost falling flat on his face as he collided with the ground, and heaved himself up, his back against the nearest tree. His legs had given up on him and the only thing stopping him from passing out completely was his unbelievable will to live. Though optimism was not really on the cards in that moment. 

He could hear the gaining speed of the soldiers. There must have been at least five of them. Not so many that would have slaughtered him immediately, but too many to actually have a fighting chance. Especially now. But Callum wasn't willing to give up. 

Swinging his rifle over his shoulder so that it lay in his two hands, he prepared for the worst. Closing his eyes, and breathing in, he refrained from moving, but let himself sit and wait for his imminent fate to greet him. The sound of running had been cut short, now, and Callum waited for the slow reveal of the Germans. 

And he waited some more. 

Confusion swept over him. "Taking your time, aren't you, lads!" He shouted. Quickly followed by a heave and heavy breathing. He clutched his stomach where the bullet wound had entered. He wasn't brave enough to check if the bullet was still inside him, but he was fairly certain it had gone straight through as the bleeding was unequivocally cascading from his stomach. Holding his hand there wasn't going to do much for long. 

But it was almost as if he was suddenly alone. There was definitely no more running, or movement for that matter. And his consciousness was slowly fading, as he found his hand holding onto the wound slipping down to allow the faucet of blood to flow free from his body. 

He let out one last sigh. A sign off, almost. Until, another pair of hands, a lot smaller than his own, grabbed hold of his bleeding abdomen, and allowed Callum to half-consciously glimpse up at the other person. 

He was hooded. Looking down so that Callum couldn't see his face. He hadn't the energy to question the stranger, but he was curious of the circumstance. After watching him retrieve a cloth of some-kind from his jacket, Callum watched the stranger place it onto his wound, and carefully hold it in place. Callum felt himself dizzy, and knew that any moment he was going to pass out, but he held out his right hand and gripped the hooded-man, whispering to him with the little effort he had left;

"Who are you?"

It was then that he closed his eyes, confined to silence. Unaware that the stranger had replied with, "Someone willing to help."


	2. Why Won't You Let Me See Your Face?

His first feeling was pain. 

Callum had barely opened his eyes before the nauseating agony befell his demeanour. The shooting sore from his stomach, like tiny shards of glass circling his inner tendons, had overwhelmed his consciousness. As he maintained his faculty for taking the initiative (opening his eyes), upon initial analysis, his surroundings had changed. 

In front of him was a clearing of sorts. Hardly the capacity of greenery that had been his muse earlier. And, hardly the same horror that he remembered from before. No bodies, no destruction, nothing. 

Everything was unfamiliar, and Callum realised he had no idea where he was. 

He was in too much pain to struggle. Moving wasn’t an option. But he could turn his head. He strained to the left, seeing a single horse, head down, with its mouth in a stream. Callum hadn’t paid much attention to his other senses, and hence hadn’t heard the water flow, but could now see that he was perched up against a tree directly next to the small stream. 

Facing forwards, he could only see as far as his vision could take him, and the end was not in sight, though as he tilted his head, he noticed another figure moving towards him, in the near distance. They were on the other side of the river, walking towards the horse, which was also on the other side.

He was staring - that was obvious. 

He didn’t know whether to stop looking though, as the other figure walked as though they were the only person in the picture. The hood covered their face, and Callum could see that their head was down. They only picked up their head when they reached the horse, stroking her mane which received him a delightful neigh. The other figure then reached into one of the multiple bags on the floor next to the horse, fishing out a handful of what looked like grain and fed her. If they could smile, he’d assume the horse had done so, because she nuzzled into the figure’s neck as soon as she’d eaten that which she’d been given. 

Then, the figure turned to look across the stream directly at Callum. 

Callum, who was still up until that point staring at them, attempted to quickly turn his head back forwards again. That was a mistake he found, as he’d ultimately shifted too hastily, causing yet another injury to his already broken body. 

“Son of a bitch…” he called out. Followed by a heave as he clutched his neck with one hand and his side with the other. 

The weak sound of a splash sounded next. Callum knowing that the other person had entered the stream and was heading towards him, which only made him breathe faster. He was tense. Suddenly, tense. That was a new feeling. 

Mounting the hill, the other figure made their way over to the Callum’s side. Kneeling down next to him, so they could inspect the wound on his side further. 

Callum still couldn’t see their face. Head down, with little to no inclination about who the other person was. The only thing Callum had systematically worked out was that the other was a man. That, however, was a guess. Based solely on the way he walked, and the way he held himself, and the absence of any long hair when he was up and close with Callum now. Though that didn’t mean it wasn’t a woman…

Until he spoke…

“You’ve pulled the bandages off. You don’t need to apply any more pressure but the bleeding might continue if we don’t reapply.”

Callum looked down to see the unfolding of bleach-red bandages that had once been a different colour. Stained to remind him of what had happened in the hours before. Although, thinking now, he was unsure how long it had actually been. 

As if reading his mind, the other man spoke, “You’ve been asleep overnight, and the other time you were unconscious for, once the bleeding started.”

“Where are we?” Callum managed to slur. 

“Safe.” he sighed. Not really wanting Callum to question what he was doing and what was going on, but he knew it was coming. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face?” 

Even Callum was surprised when he asked that. Surprised that he opted for the appearance of his saviour rather than a name. “I know I haven’t been very helpful and...conscious since yesterday, but I wanted to thank you, you know. You saved my life and I want to thank you. But, I don’t understand why you won’t let me see your face…”

“Ben! My name's Ben…” it was quicker than he had wanted to say, but all the same, he had blurted it out. 

“Okay.” Callum found himself smiling. Cursing under his breath almost immediately, blaming his immune system for not being in control of his functioning face muscles. 

Ben let out another sigh. This time removing his hood. Callum studied his face as if needing to remember it for his short-term memory. His hair was short - shorter than Callum’s, but it still stuck up in places that probably weren’t meant to when he’d looked at himself in the morning. His eyes were a greyish-blue which accompanied a set of soft yet stern eyebrows. He wasn’t smiling, which only heightened the intensity of his sternness. And, the clean-cut shave that went around his chin, the side of his face, and under his nose, commended his attractiveness, if on his face alone. 

Ben had turned away from Callum a few seconds after removing his hood, yet Callum had found he’d learnt more about him in those few seconds than he had most of the men he had fought with over the last twelve months. 

“Your eyes. They’re so sad. Like you’ve lost a part of yourself but your body and mind hasn’t caught up yet.”

He turned back. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a senate.”

Callum laughed. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a saviour.”

Ben smiled at him, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the new set of bandages. Placing them to the side momentarily, he took his time removing the old bandages around Callum’s torso. “And who is the dashing young soldier that required my saving, then?” Callum blushed. He wasn’t used to the attention, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t looked at Ben in a not-so-friendly way, in the short time he had looked upon his face. 

“Highway. Commander Highway.”

“Name, not rank. Though, it’s nice to know you’re highly certified.”

Callum suddenly hissed in pain. The short stab of recent memories accompanying the complete removal of the old bandages against his bare skin was very much the exposition of agony. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Cal...ah! Callum. God, can you be a bit more careful?!” 

“Well, Callum,” emphasis on his name. “As you asked so nicely, I’ll be extra attentive.” 

Callum watched Ben dispose of the dark red linen and replace them with a cleaner, fresher, white alternative. Clenching his fist into the ground whilst Ben retained his attention to Callum’s stomach. When he’d finished, he looked down at the job, holding his hand against the wound, and not withdrawing. Callum followed the look, then back up to Ben’s face, who he now found was staring back at him. Callum looked into his sad eyes, which had somehow shone a little brighter as he stared deeper into them. Neither of them spoke, but it was the intelligible silence that evidently broke them apart. Callum looking away first. 

“I, um...thanks for that…” he stuttered. Ben followed suit by dropping his gaze from Callum. He was hesitant at first, remaining completely still. His hand still placed comfortably against the bandaged wound, but blatantly decided to get to his feet, removing his hand in the process. “Can you move?” he asked. “I might need a bit of help, but potentially.” 

Ben leant down once more, only this time to wrap his arms around the upper half of Callum’s torso. Making sure he had substituted the weight correctly, he heaved upwards, exhibiting a mild shriek from Callum as he composed himself and made himself useful by holding onto Ben’s shoulders. 

Once upright, Callum realised how much shorter Ben was to him. Half a head at least, as when he hunched over against Ben, he was still an inch taller. This didn’t factor as a negative, however, as Ben more than managed to drag Callum across the stream, and towards his horse, who could not have cared less about the obvious tension between the two of them, now. 

Without instructing she got to her knees once Ben and Callum were directly next to her saddle side, allowing Ben to manoeuvre Callum next to the stirrups. “I need you to swing your leg over. It’s gonna kill, but trust me, you’ll be fine once we set off, okay?” 

“Where are we going, Ben?” 

They looked up at each other once more. This time, the tension had subsided and there was genuine confusion on Callum’s face and an obvious form of restraint on Ben’s. 

“Do you trust me?” he said. 

Callum went to open his mouth and stopped. This time really looking at him. Trying to find a reason not to, but ultimately being drawn back to the sadness and reality of his beautiful eyes. The curve of his face, of his smirk, of his lips…

“Yes, I trust you. Weirdly, I do.”

Ben let out a sigh he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Great, now get on the horse, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Callum felt like he was bargaining in some way, but after going through all his options, he realised that this was his best shot. He was injured, a bit scared, and in the hands of a handsome stranger. The only way forwards, to allow the help to be given and survive. 

He took a breath, putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder, and hoisting himself over the horse. He could feel the tearing of the wound that had almost definitely split open again and was seeping through into the clean wounds that had just been applied. Restraining himself was yelling out, as he’d already shrieked in his presence. But, Ben was soft. He was gracious with handling Callum with the utmost care. 

Callum watched Ben stroke the horse’s mane once he’d settled onto her back, and with no warning, she got to her feet with Callum atop. He held on for dear life, as Ben left her side to retrieve the bags thrown askew the riverbank. Pulling the first over his shoulder, and attaching the rest to the strap on the side of the horse (next to Callum’s waist), Ben eventually took to her side, retrieved the rope to guide her and pulled ahead. 

They followed behind Ben at a slow enough pace, once Callum had settled into the riding style, and Callum found himself watching Ben and wondering...

Why did he look so familiar?

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was always in my mind. I liked the idea of a braver version of Callum, but at the same time not ridding him of any of his current qualities and personality. I'm planning on doing multiple chapters, as it's an ongoing, but not sure how many yet. It'll be at least 12. Might change later on...


End file.
